Basic Space
by InfectedWalker
Summary: When Sherlock takes his fall and fakes his death he turns to John's annoying friend Joanne. Eventual Sherlock/OC. Fall featured in chapter 3
1. Latte and Tea Part 1

**Hello, sorry for the annoying author's note at the start of the chapter. Just wanted to say that the OC, Joanne will appear in the story but in the first few chapters it will be quite a background appearance It is an eventual Sherlock/OC but I didn't want to rush into a friendship or anything like it. I just wanted to make it a bit more realistic in terms... Anyways, enjoy the chapter :)**

Chapter One: Latte and Tea

**Part 1**

It was mid-afternoon in cold London. The two friends had sat face to face in the crowded cafe. She quickly sipped on her latte while he slowly sipped on a cup of tea. It had been three weeks since their last coffee/tea catch up, their meetings had always been short lived as the male's colleague would find him and take him in a rush but today was different, so he hoped.

"He's away for two months! Don't know where the hell he is but he did leave a note on my door" Dr. John Watson's eyebrows knitted together, his friend's did not. She gave a smile which had made his eyebrows slightly unstitch themselves.

"I still have not met him yet you talk of him so highly!" Joanne Guildford laughed. Apparently John's flatmate was all kind of trouble and to Joanne, he seemed fascinating.

"Well, that doesn't matter now does it? Who cares about Sherlock at the moment. What's been happening with you?" John knew that once he had finally went home to his flat in Baker Street that he would care where Sherlock was. A note saying _'Gone abroad for two months, see you then -SH'_ was not specific. These unanswered questions John had brewing in his mind followed him everywhere. Even at the cafe down the road from Barts. Even if he was in the company of a friend he had barely any time to catch up with.

"I worked nearly 13 hours yesterday! This one woman was so demanding, wanted extra attention for her daughter who drunk herself nearly to death!" Joanne has slurped the rest of her latte down. John was still halfway through his tea.

**Where are you? You are not home -SH** read the first text message John had read as he took a peek at his mobile phone.

**Aren't you meant to be out of the country? **John had replied, hoping not to look rude in front of Joanne but she didn't mind though. It had given her enough time to order another coffee.

"Is he texting you?"

"How did you get another coffee?" John eyes had left his phone and to his friend's coffee mug which was now magically full.

"Ordered it while you were texting. Are you sure nothing is going on with you two?"

"W-what? What do you mean by that?" a nervous chuckle escaped his mouth. Of course she was implying about a relationship, they all do but every time it is implied John seemed to be the one clearing his name.

**Are you at that cafe by Barts? -SH**

"No, we're flatmates. I help him solve crimes. I've had girlfriends! I am straight!" John had justified, glancing at his phone to read Sherlock's message.

**Your phone does have a tracking chip -SH**

"It's just you're getting older now... then again never stopped my mother!" Joanne laughed to herself before sipping her latte.

"Sherlock is on his way! I just need you to know a few things. It is most likely he will offend you so just shake off anything he says, don't try to intellectually challenge him and just don't go 'wow that's brilliant " John had panicked, he didn't want his friend to be insulted. It was nice to talk to someone who challenged his intelligence constantly.

Of course Sherlock wasn't out of the country and of course he couldn't have a coffee or in his case a cuppa without Sherlock getting in the middle of it. John had made the mental note of making sure Joanne had coffee at theirs next time.

The noise in the cafe was starting to die down now. People had finally gotten off their lunch breaks and were hurrying back to work, trying to grab one last coffee on the go before they had to leave to slave over their horrid bosses.

For John, it was nice to talk to someone in the medical field. They could tell stories and laugh about horrible patients and have a competition to see who had seen the goriest injuries. It had seemed childish but for John it was break from the detective lifestyle and a break from Sherlock who could be very intense sometimes.

Joanne on the other hand found it stressful to see friends and family due to her occupation. It was not if she cared if she saw her mother every week because from what Joanne knew, her mother was too busy eating fancy portions at wealthy events. She despised her mother for it. Her husband drops dead and she makes a fortune, wouldn't be surprised if the woman put a hit man on him herself. Even though she only had a small amount of time to see John, it was also nice to share work stories with.

"Do you mind if I pop out for a cigarette? Only had one today" she had asked John who nodded happily.

John was left to his own devices for a few minutes, looking around the cafe he had been plenty of times. He found himself intrigued by one painting which only had featured three colours. Brown, gold and white. He found himself entertained, trying to figure it out what it meant. A figure had then sat across from him. Thinking it was Joanne, he was about to smile and talk about the painting but it wasn't her. It was a man with dark curly hair and bright eyes who comfortably loosened his scarf.

"Thought you were out of the country?" John bewilderedly asked

"Had some trouble at the airport when I got there, insulted the guard or something along those lines. Had to board the first plane back to London. Terrible isn't it? Airport security these days" Sherlock eyes had locked with John's for a second before he glanced at the woman heading towards the table.

Sherlock noticed the empty coffee mug meaning John had met with someone, from the choice of drink it was woman. Sugar was not dissolved meaning there was more than fair quantity of sugar which also meant the woman had a sweet tooth and that the woman must always be in a rush because the sugar would have been more dissolved if let to sit for longer. The woman walking towards the table was a smoker due to the fact he saw her outside the cafe have a cigarette. This must have been the woman sitting with John.

"I was happily having coffee with Joanne" John had expressed in annoyance.

Sherlock's attention was given to the female standing over him. She smiled which annoyed him in a small way. Sherlock saw things in her, and of course the Sherlock way was to puzzle her as if he had known every secret about her.

"You must be Joanne. You were happily engaged weren't you? Must have ended recently due to the fact there is a tan line on your finger. You seem to rush around quite a bit, like you'd die if you stopped. You must be a nurse because doctor's take time to enjoy their coffee and because you have horrible bags under your eyes. All those late shifts just to forget about your ex-fiance is it?"

"And you must be Sherlock" she simply smiled, following John's advice. This had confused the consulting detective, there was no response on the woman's face. He was impressive but she didn't seem too impressed. "I've heard so much about you from John"

The woman had picked up her handbag from under the seat Sherlock was now residing in. She had paid no attention to Sherlock but to John who looked up to her to see her pull her hair from out of her coat.

"Lovely seeing you John, give me a text next time you want to have coffee"

"Oh yes and nice to meet you Sherlock" she had said before quickly leaving the cafe.

* * *

In front of John were pieces of papers scattered on the round wooden table. The table was so covered that you could hardly see the dark dull wood underneath. The scattered papers showed medical records of several people. Every single operation they had received, every medication they had to take, how much they weighed since their last visit to the GP. Everything.

"You are a doctor, look through these records. Tell me if they all have had mutual doctors, medication, anything." Sherlock had said before he escaped to his cozy armchair to play the violin.

John gathered the paper, sorting them out into columns. The first column was Peter Lucas, the second was Anne Greene, the third was Kayla Rhee, the fourth was Kyle Dixon and the last was Zoe Robin. All murdered and somehow Sherlock believed a clue was in their medical records.

"These recent records say that they were all treated at the same hospital. Same surgeon and doctor. Occupations are different, no relation to each other" John's head hurt from all the processing. What could any of this information tell him? His words were not being heard, a few meters away was the sound of the intruding violin.

"Sherlock? Sherlock? What is an adult entertainer?" the question had made Sherlock stop playing his instrument abruptly His eyes locked with John's at an awkward distance and what Sherlock was to say had made him feel the tiniest bit awkward.

"The professional name for a porn star, John" Sherlock had said blankly before returning to play again.

Zoe Robin, an adult entertainer, admitted into hospital for a badly broken foot. Is given a sedative to numb the pain, bandaged up and sent home. Four days later, she dies.

Kayla Rhee, a university student, admitted into hospital for an operation on an ingrown toenail Sent home, four days later she is found dead in a park.

Anne Greene, a business woman, undertakes an operation for a liver transplant. Dies three days later on her way home in a taxi.

Peter Lucas, a geography teacher, ends up in a drunk driving collision. Stitches were needed for his stomach and after two days, he dies in hospital.

Kyle Dixon, unemployed, admitted to hospital for a bad fight involving knives Stitches were needed for his head and leg. Dies three days later at home.

"The only normal thing to die from would be Mrs. Greene's case but the rest is abnormal..." John commented, scribbling similarities down in his notebook.

'_Same hospital, same doctor's for all 5 cases and surgeons. _  
_abnormal deaths except Greene. _  
_minor injuries such as onychocryptosis, broken bone, cut to leg and head._  
_major injuries/surgery such as liver transplant and badly cut stomach._  
_no similarities in injury but have had stitches, surgery with anesthesia or a numbing sedative._  
_talk to doctor wilson?_'

John closed the lid to his notebook and looked to Sherlock. He had stopped playing the violin and was simply sat there in his armchair Sherlock was staring blankly at the wall, not commenting like he normally did. John had thought that he'd, out of all people, would have an opinion. Even if it was an irritable one.

"They had the same doctor Sherlock-"

"Yes I did hear you before"

"So...?"

"So?" Sherlock snapped quickly, looking John who was doing the same thing that he always does. Rolling his eyes.

What did John expect him to do? think about the case seriously? He had known a lot more than John about it already and he needed him up to date. His thoughts chased him back to Moriarty, of course Moriarty had something to do with this. But Sherlock had started to think about his fate a little more than usual. It was threatened now and all he could do was wait.

"Joanne works at the hospital, she could help us out!" Sherlock let out a small sound to mock John.

"She annoys me"

"How? You only have talked to her once"

"Of course, she'll be working. Silly woman trying to find something to do so she doesn't pity herself. Yes alright we'll go" Sherlock had stood from his armchair to grab his coat.

* * *

Joanne sighed heavily as she flicked the ash from her cigarette. Her mind raced, thinking about her patients and when she could go home to her bed and gross microwave dinner. It was cold outside and after 20 years of living in London, she still was not adjusted. She clutched one side of her cardigan, wrapping it around her. A way of trying to fight off the incoming coldness which didn't work. She breathed in the last of the harsh chemicals from the cigarette and let some smoke escape down her precious lungs before releasing the smoke to the modern air.

She raced through the vacant corridors, only passing a few patients or fellow colleagues on her way back to the ward. As soon as she had reached the nurses desk, she chucked her striped cardigan underneath the table. A pair of eyes were on her and she knew, her own eyes turned to look at the nurse who grasped the phone in her hand.

"Two men are here to see you, police. Just around the corner, Jo" that was, in a small way, her colleague watching out for her. Normally when the police turned up it was because of an issue with patient or taking a patient to the ward. When the police were here to see you, it was a whole different story.

Joanne walked around the corner, thinking of all the things she could have possibly done wrong. Maybe it was her mother and her conceited ways.

"_Who knows what kind of trouble that batty woman could have gotten herself into"_

But turning the corner left her with a surprise. It was not the police. Joanne laughed to herself a little, letting her heart rest from it beating so fast before.

"John? Can I help?"

"Ah yes-"

"You nursed Kyle Dixon to 'health', correct?" Sherlock had asked bluntly, ignoring any kind of fact that John was talking.

"Yeah? He was an idiot, he needed stitches for his leg and head-"

"And you had given him an injection, correct?" he had again interrupted. The nurse was used to this sort of carry on.

"I didn't actually inject him, I just stitched him up. Doctor Wilson said that he'd give him a numbing sedative that the head of faculty had talked about now giving patients" after she had spoken, Joanne started to think. There was something off about the situation.

"Are you an idiot? He's lying!" John rapidly looked to Sherlock, feeling somewhat insulted for his friend.

"Dr. Wilson told me that he's storing the sedative in his office. I suggest you go and talk to him. His office is down the corridor on your left, should be the third door" Joanne gave a quick goodbye to John before rushing back to her job.

Sherlock's mind was buzzing and at the same time his brain was screaming 'Moriarty' over and over again. He knew well enough to listen to what his mind was telling him, it was only logical. A sedative, he needed to steal it. Create a diversion. Analyse it at Barts.

The consulting detective and the ex-army doctor walked down the white linoleum floor, they hadn't said a word to each other. John wanted to speak up for his friend, Sherlock could tell that but he wouldn't have had cared if John had mentioned anything. It simply did not matter to him.

It was quiet around this corner of the ward, the only footsteps they could hear was their own. The two had come to a stop and there they saw a door saying _'DR. Gregory Wilson'_. After three heavy knocks on the plain door, a body emerged to greet them.

"Hello, how can I help?" the man had asked.


	2. Latte and Tea Part 2

**Chapter One: Latte and Tea**  
**Part Two**

Sherlock was simply not intimidated by anyone, all except Irene Adler who he had not heard from in months. Maybe it was the fact he knew things about someone by just a glance. By taking one look at Doctor Wilson he could deduct a few things. He had a good sense of oral hygiene, due to his flashy grin. He had momentarily pretended to be busy, looking at the stack of folders on his desk which hadn't been touched. The doctor was obviously having an affair with the head of nursing due to her acting quite flustered when they had asked about him earlier and the hickey he was trying to hide with the collar of his white coat. The typical dreamboat doctor.

"Hello, how can I help?" he had politely asked, flashing his grin.

"Hello I'm Detective Snicket and this is my colleague Sergeant Pegg. You must be Dr. Gregory Wilson?" Sherlock had said, lying through his teeth. He had given subtle eye contact with John, telling him to play along. Luckily John had noticed and knew what to do.

"Yes, I am. Why are you here? There has nothing been going on at the hospital that should have to involve the police."

"We're here to talk to you about a few deaths that have happened recently, all of them patients at this hospital and you were their doctor. The police think it's a matter to deal with"

The doctor looked around. He was alarmed, he tried to remain calm but his eyes gave it away. Dr. Wilson ushered the two men into his office, gesturing them to take a seat. He himself slides into his chair, nervously chuckling.

"Is this concerning Anne Greene?"

"Yes. You were Mrs. Greene's doctor, did she give any sign of feeling ill after her operation?" John had talked for his flatmate who seemed quite distracted.

Sherlock's nimble fingers went away at his mobile phone which he had in his coat pocket. Remembering where the keys were, Sherlock had quickly sent a text message to John. John's pocket vibrated as the doctor talked, he rudely took it out of his pocket and viewed the message.

**I need you to ask for the bathroom. Find Joanne, ask her to make a distraction in 3 minutes and steal one of her bobby pins - SH**

"I am so sorry for interrupting, but where is the bathroom?"John had asked blankly.

With the Doctor's instructions, John left the room to find Joanne. The Doctor had tried to fill Sherlock with useless information, Sherlock had tried to care. Anne Greene was an alcoholic, explaining the new liver. She didn't have Wilson disease. He felt offended that Dr. Wilson thought of him as an idiot and took everything in his body to not correct him. Luckily Joanne sprung in, telling the Doctor about needing a second opinion.

* * *

Dr. Gregory Wilson had of course ushered Sherlock out of the room when Joanne came for him, locking the door behind him. When John had arrived back with the bobby pin, Sherlock started his magic. He had bent the black metal into place and with a few clicks the door was open.  
_'If I was a lethal injection where would I live?'_ He had thought before spinning over to the cabinets which with John's help identified the injection.

But while Sherlock was persistent to go to Barts, John had stayed at the hospital to take Joanne to dinner to thank her. Sherlock didn't understand why but he didn't care. After finding the injection, Sherlock could only believe one possible theory: Moriarty.

"Hello Sherlock!" Molly had greeted the man, who swiftly entered the lab, with enthusiasm.

"Yes, Hello"

Out of his coat pocket was the injection. In the plain packet, it contained the needle and the dose. He injects a small dose into the dish and hands it to Molly.

"Can you test this, tell me when it's done" His arm reached out towards Molly's direction, in hand was the dish. He didn't even glance at her.

Molly stood awkwardly behind Sherlock after she took the dish. She carried this flaming torch for him and he didn't even notice. '_He can tell where a woman has come from just by the dampness of her coat but not when a female has an attraction to him'_ she angrily thought. She was sick of having feelings for someone who is too blind to see but she wouldn't hate him or get angry with him. If the best she could be was a friend then she would take it.

"Where's John?" her mouth slightly smiling at the head full of hair that didn't turn around.

"With Joanne!"

"Who's that? Is that a new girlfriend of his? I hope she's lovely"

"Oh no, they are not dating and I don't think ever will. John has his eye on someone else, they are just friends. She is annoying though" Sherlock frowned, looking now through a microscope. It was to test himself but he seemed right about half the bacteria he had looked at.

"How?"

Sherlocks had spun around in his chair to look at Molly who still stood in her awkward stance. He felt embarrassed to say the thing he was about to say.

"When I deduct people in front of them, they have a reaction. Most of the time it's priceless but when I deducted her she didn't react. It annoys me" He paused for a second before spinning around again, to look through the microscope.

Molly hadn't known what to say about what Sherlock had said to her. To Molly, it sounded like an insecurity. So Molly didn't say anything, she knew the only thing to make him less annoyed would be to take the sample to the lab. There Molly went, trotting off to the lab with the sample in hand. She thought about Toby, her cat. Which reminded her to pick up some cat food on the way home.

* * *

"Of course this was Moriarty" he had looked at the results which took two hours to get. He pulled out his phone to text the only person he could imagine but as he swiveled around, he saw him standing there.

"What happened to Joanne?"

"She ends work in three hours, so I'll pick her up from the hospital and take her back to ours" John smiled. Sherlock couldn't be bothered complaining, there was better news in his hand.

"Do you remember Carl Powers? Poison got into his medication and he died. Well there seems to be traces of this in the sedative. Mixed with other chemicals that would actually numb the patients. Dr. Wilson must be working with Moriarty but why this?" Sherlock has stood from his chair and paced back and forth in the small room. After a few minutes he had stopped pacing and looked at John who gave him a puzzled look.

"We must go home, I need to play the violin."

It was 11:37 when the two caught a cab to 221b Baker Street. John was thinking about what could possibly be in the cupboards that wasn't contaminated with dead peoples body parts. Sherlock, however, had his eyes locked onto the London nightlife The lights so fluorescent blending well with the dark sky. The city lights made up for the stars dulled by it's brightness. Oddly enough, it was mesmerising to Sherlock and he was hardly mesmerised by anything.

A large halt caused Sherlock to leave his daydream of London town and it took him a moment to realize he was home. John had paid the cabbie like he always did, knowing Sherlock never carried his wallet or money with him anywhere. Sherlock bolted upstairs, surprisingly not waking Mrs. Hudson. Without word to John, he picked up his violin and started playing a tune. A starter. And after that starter, he started composing. There Sherlock Holmes was lost in his world and he hadn't realized his flatmate had left his presence at 1:13am.

"John! Cup of tea!" he yelled to his absent flatmate, putting down his bow and violin gently onto the scratched table.

Sherlock looked for the time, 2:27am. He remembered vaguely about John getting Joanne at 2am. He shook his head as he sat in his armchair, looking at the ceiling while the feeling of wretchedness took over his body. He knew what was going on in the case, he knew that the doctor was killing them. Why? What would Moriarty want with killing 5 random people without a big fuss? He knew what the doctor was doing, the 'why?' stumped him.

He could hear a two sets of footsteps and giggling from down by the front door. He hadn't bothered getting up from his slumpy stance in the armchair to greet them. He needed to think.

"Hello, Didn't know if you were hungry but I brought back some Chinese!"

"Not now John! I'm thinking" Sherlock snapped, causing John to shrug it off and join Joanne on the sofa.

As John and Joanne sat and talked while eating, Sherlock finally moved from his stance. He observed the two friends as they laughed other silly jokes.

"So Sherlock, I hear you keep body parts in the fridge. Can I have a look?" she asked.

Many people would be repulsed by the body parts but she wasn't and it confused Sherlock very much so. He could read her but not understand her. He nodded his head and watched her approach the fridge. The first thing she pulled out was a liver, soaking in some chemical.

"So do you just find body parts, soak them in chemicals and watch them go to waste?" Joanne looked up to him.

"Wait... What did you just say?" Sherlock looked her in the eye, racing from his chair to stand half a metre away.

"Was just making a joke about you stealing people's organs and injecting/soaking them in chemicals. Sorry if I-"

"You are amazing!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"John, Doctor Wilson was experimenting on patients for Moriarty. No one would suspect patients dying, its a damn hospital" He had said to John, grabbing out his phone to call Lestrade.

* * *

And so another one of the spiders in Moriarty's web had been killed, or in this case put behind bars. John had gone to type on his blog while Sherlock sat in silence, enjoying the fact another case was solved. And so like the 221B spirit, John went to bed and Sherlock stayed up all night to watch television.

He waited for another case, just because you kill one spider doesn't mean there wouldn't be more. By the time it was sunrise, Sherlock had collapsed into bed. Having an anticipated sleep that John hoped he would have in the end.


	3. Food for Thought

_**I'm sorry that this chapter is short, I just wanted to get it over and done with and out. Enjoy and what not. Leave a review if you please. Next chapter mostly focused on the fall.**_

**Chapter 2: Food for Thought**

Suddenly, the dreamy female woke from her much needed rest. She looked to the glossy table next to her bed to see the numbers on her alarm clock flash '12:27pm'.

The covers that occupied the top of her body were thrown carelessly off of her. She stepped out of bed and managed carelessly and clumsily to walk t her kitchen. Not an important thought on her mind expect her cup of tea and cigarette.

Her hand reaches to the bulky cabinet door which behind revealed a small amount of crockery There was an orange mug that was the first thing that was in her reach. Joanne gracelessly took the mug away from it's home, bumping the mug on the side of the cabinet. She swore an appalling word before turning her kettle on. Joanne had always liked sweet things, a couple of more sugars that two wouldn't hurt.

On television was the terrible midday shows that you had to choose from when you had stayed home from work or school or woke up too late for them to end. A replay of a survival game show was the only decent thing on television so Joanne watched. She sat in her brown armchair made of soft material before reaching to the dull side table on her right. On the table sat a large but full ashtray and a glossy packet of cigarettes. Opening the packet, she slides one into her mouth. The first puff was her daily relief after waking up, her cup of tea had always run down her throat smoothly. Her ex-fiance never liked her smoking in the house, it wasn't his main concern now.

While enjoying her first cigarette of the day, her mobile phone vibrates three times which told her she had a message. This was an odd occurrence for her. Joanne's eyes locked onto the mobile phone across the room on the kitchen counter. The only person she could think that would have contacted her was her mother who even then calls her. She flicks the hanging ash off of her cigarette into the ashtray before approaching her phone.

**Cut your work hours down, not going to help with a broken heart - SH**

Her eyes analysed the text message twice.

'_How the hell did he get my number?_' she thought to herself, frowning.

**Why does it matter to you?**

She took the phone with her to the armchair. Joanne stubbed out the cigarette and took her mug to the sink before she had received a reply.

**I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other. I don't want to be in your presence while you secretly pity yourself -SH**

The clever man placed his mobile phone on the chipped window sill before picking up his beautiful wooden instrument and bow that sat on his left. There the peaceful melody had started, one he had composed himself.

* * *

"I'm off to Melissa's" John had chirped to his flatmate, putting his mobile phone in his coat pocket before heading towards the door.

"Who?"

"My new girlfriend, Sherlock" he had said, pausing at the doorway.

"What am I meant to do? I'm simply bored John" Sherlock had asked, frowning at the thought of his boredom. No new cases had come up that were at least a seven, causing the consulting detective into a downward spiral of gloom.

"I don't know. I may be staying over so I don't know about the shopping!" John had yelled, becoming more distant as he walked down the stairs to the entrance.

"Am I meant to do that too?" he had yelled but all he had been given in reply was a the slam of the door.

Sherlock thought about what he could do. He had pondered on it for an hour before deciding that maybe he should do the grocery shopping. He hardly ate, and new hardly what to get at the supermarket He texted the only person who he knew would help him.

The ecstatic female pushed the shopping trolley through the biscuit and potato chip aisle. On her side was Sherlock Holmes, trying to figure out what biscuits John liked. He thought for a moment before picking up the red packet of biscuits off the shelf and chucking them into the trolley.

'_Is this what normal people do with their lives? This is incredibly boring_' he had thought.

Molly talks about dinner and Sherlock talks about his worries about Moriarty: "After we do this, do you want to go to dinner? We can get Chinese or whatever your fancy?" Molly had eagerly looked up to Sherlock, hoping the answer would be yes.

"I am not hungry" he had said without even a glance, too busy looking at the tea bags.

"Oh... okay" she didn't even know why she was let down, it happened all the time. Every time it happened though, she found herself still upset.

"I am a little worried, Molly" he had said without seeming to care. Molly's eyes caringly looked to his direction, raising every concern she could make humanly possible.

"Oh, what is it?"

"I'm worried Moriarty is planning something big," his eyes scanned over the bottles of milk "do I get the blue milk or the green milk?"

* * *

Sherlock carried the four plastic shopping bags up the stairs, looking at his flat to see it vacant. There was not the sound of John typing away at his blog or Mrs. Hudson popping in for a slight discussion, it was the pleasant sound of silence.

He made room for certain items in the refrigerator so it wouldn't be contaminated with the body parts he normally kept. This was boring for him, normal and he couldn't bare the thought of normal night in. Maybe he should have taken Molly up on that dinner idea but it was too late now.

So he sat there for the night, looking at the facts. It played like a nagging rhythm in his head, he felt like he was missing something. His arm chair had never felt less cozy until then.

"What does he want?" he had asked himself.

The question he surely knew would be answered sooner than he thought.


End file.
